Reasons of the Paranoid
by NotebookChen
Summary: Sophomores, and in this story we find out more about Tweek and his mannerisms while at the same time Tweek himself finds more out about himself and well... his relationship with Craig. Rated T for curses. Slash; Creek and many others. Child abuse/neglect
1. The Morning

EDIT: This story is about Tweek and Craig, as in Creek. It contains slash, (tyde, bunny, dip, gregophe, and style), and child abuse/neglect. It has anime-speak in Red's part, and is dragging on longer than I orginally intended. This chapter will suck a bit because it's mostly backround info intro. The second one possibly too... After that it will get better i swear. Actually, it stays kinda crappy for a bit longer till you get past when they eat breakfast in my opinion.

* * *

"AAHHHH!!!"

Tweek jolted his body into an upright position, his heart beat placing at the far end of the bell curve, but only slightly out of the middle of his _own_ average. It had been the crow call of his alarm. Not literally of course, who would choose to wake to the sound of a bird screaming? No, Tweek's alarm reminded him of a crow call because once, when he was walking through a cornfield on a "field-trip", (The teachers at South Park Regional High School had found this pun extraordinarily amusing, while the students had been forced to endure a lesson on ethanol,) Tweek had gotten distracted and strayed from the group only to come across a crow, the first non bird-of-prey he'd ever seen, last year, in ninth grade. The call it gave had been low and had graduated to a deafening high note, all than less the time it took to speak a one syllable word, and came like clockwork every 48 seconds. (he had counted) His alarm clock was the same style of a note, except that the second one ended, the next shriek would immediately follow it.

Tweek had a loft bed, and an old computer (along with several strewn about coffee cups) resided underneath it. The blonde needed a loft bed for space; there was barely enough floor to walk around the room his parents had chosen for him, in their one-level apartment floor above Harbucks. Tweek had asked multiple times but had only gotten a loft bed when his dad saw someone on the street throwing one away and remembered him. (which was unusual... him thinking of Tweek, that is.) Mr. Tweak _claimed_ the previous owners had been throwing it out because their kid had out-grown it, but Tweek could never escape the feeling that it was old junk and going to break underneath him. The thought wasn't _that_ paranoid, his bed squeaked involuntary when he moved about, and he had all the reason to suspect his dad was lying about the bed's stature.

He grasped the ladder tightly as he trudged down, eye's still wide from the shock of being jolted awake, but heart pace gradually slowing. He rubbed his eye with his left hand as he shut off his alarm with a shaky right; carefully timing the shut-off as another note died out, so that he didn't stop the screeching midway.

It was six, and he had fifty six minutes before the bus came. (only one more year before he could drive to school!) Tweek always counted things like that, because anything that he could rely on calmed him. At any rate, being a sophomore, he couldn't drive without an adult. Riding with his parents wasn't an option, ruled out by them as much as Tweek himself.

Tweek's relationship with his parents was less than great, depending on who was looking at it. His parents thought it was a pretty fair one. They rationalized that teenagers wanted to be left alone, and acted sort of like he didn't exist. They were far from cruel, and it wasn't as much that they ignored Tweek as that they truly didn't care what he did or what happened to him. They never wanted a child in the first place. They hadn't openly told him before he asked, but certainly made no point in trying to hide that he was a mistake. They loved each other, don't get me wrong, but they weren't ready (or willing) for a child to care for. In fact, neither of Tweek's parents had good relations with _their_ parents, and three-fourths of his grandparents just saw Tweek as the bastard child of their own rebellious children. At seventeen, (in the angsty 90's) both his parents ran off from their homes, supposingly finding their 'soul mates' –in that they both hated their parents, as the main reason. His Nani, though, loved him unconditionally. Tweek liked to think of her as his only real family. She was his mom's mom, and was there for him during the most important parts of his life.

Some thought that Tweek's "behavior" was because of an accident. When he had been little, (around five) he had hit his head on a glass table; getting barely-visible stitches on the left side of his right eyebrow. This was true, but those who thought that his parents had rushed him to Hell's Pass were wrong. No, they weren't even paying attention to what had happened, and Nani had brought him there. Even those who didn't think that his parents rushed him there (if such people existed...) would still have been wrong. Yes, Tweek hit his head when his was five, but no; it wasn't related to the way he acted. He hadn't even hit it that hard, in fact, if the same thing were to happen now, his more-developed skull wouldn't even get scraped. He hadn't even cried that long, for christ's sake! But it had been the only guess, the only excuse, to how he acted, and everyone seemed to jump to _that_ conclusion.

Tweek twitched twice and shivered. He was always cold. Except for on his neck, hips, and forehead, which, to Tweek, seemed ten degrees hotter than the rest of his body... and twenty degrees hotter than South Park. However, that warmness might have just been what others call average, because he had always felt chilled; even others told him that. He was especially freezing on his ears and ankles, and always especially his fingertips- so coffee always felt good to hold.

As he heard a bang on his door and the masculine voice that was his father's, calling "Get UP Tweek, if you just keep sitting there, you'll miss the bus!" Tweek had sat down Indian style on his carpet after shutting down the annoying sound. His dad knew he wasted a lot of time in the morning, taking, maybe, thirty-four of the fifty-six minutes sitting or looking around, thinking of anything that could go wrong that day—if he forgot something at home; if one person or another said this or that-- but a lot of the time he just stared into space. His twitching slowed when he did this. He liked not thinking.

Tweek's thoughts wondered back to his parents. _He_ wasn't sure what he thought of their relationship with him. On one hand, it was every teenagers' dream to be left alone (and he knew and respected this), but on the other, there was a void in him; where he missed that special interaction, and fostered that need to fend and care for himself. (which he wasn't all that good at...) Tweek never thought of his parents as bad parental figures, their morals "were just screwed over." They technically never even married. (not that that bothered Tweek, he just read in a magazine once –in an office after finally convincing his mom that he _did_ have to go to the doctor-- that parents who didn't marry had a tendency to care less for their children. Tweek had to agree.) Everyone outside of his immediate family figured that their family was just as normal as anyone else's, maybe a screwed up dad like Stan, or an over bearing mother like Kyle's. Tweek knew that they didn't know how wrong the others were about the second one. Mr and Mrs Tweak didn't _act_ abnormal to anyone but themselves and a few _very_ close friends. (ahem, drinking buddies... not that they were alcoholics; in fact, they only drank the one time the month they met up with their friends- but when they did, they got themselves completely wasted...) They were always trying to act older than they were. Tweek wondered if it was because they were ashamed of their age. The Tweaks didn't flat out lie about their age, they just danced around the truth. They always avoided speeding to appear more responsible (and so the police never had to look at their licenses and see their actual ages) and his father even took the extra step in adopting the habit of spewing intelligent sounding metaphors to any passer-by. They owned their own business, a coffee shop; to look older in taste and stature, but mostly so that they didn't have to talk to anyone or answer to a boss. Living in the upper apartment of the cafe, it was only a matter of time before Tweek drank his first cup. Black coffee, at age five. He called it "yicky" and spat it out, only to forget and try it again at age seven. He now liked the sense of hyper-ness it gave him, and with no controlling parents to monitor his intake, he became hooked. By two more grades, (in fourth) he became a complete addict. His parents shop and downstairs floor provided him with coffee any time he had wanted it. It was always there for him. His mother had tried and failed; but mocha-chinos and lattes (or even just black coffee) hadn't ditched him.

Mrs. Tweek's motherly instinct kicked in every once and a while, and she would sometimes casually ask questions about Tweek's day, but growing up with her, Tweek learned to answer quickly and not bore her, or she would raise her voice and start picking things up and slamming them back down. When she yelled, she shouted things like, "FOR CHRIST SAKES, CHILL!" and Tweek always figured his mom detested her son being born the spaz he was, or that they had a son at all... Yes, he had been born like this, and his addiction to coffee intensified his spasms. His mom never threw anything when she yelled, but it was enough to strike slight fear in Tweek's heart when he heard her call his name. Was this the cause of his paranoia? Tweek didn't know, and didn't care (past was past, how ever he got it, he was stuck with it now) but he certainly didn't blame her. He didn't blame her for wanting the residents of South Park to think she was older than she really was, either. She was only thirty-three, and had a sixteen year old son. I repeat; when she was seventeen she ran off with Tweek's dad, and got herself pregnant. They decided to move to a town no one would recognize them from, start a business that looked appropriate married, and _act_ older and married, but finding your 'soul mate' doesn't necessarily make you a good parent.

Tweek jerked himself alert with another twitch and thought to himself something along the lines of 'coffee withdrawal' before reluctantly pulling himself up and glancing over at his alarm. "Six-thirteen." he said to either himself or no one in particular.

He got his coffee and, after finishing it, went back upstairs to get ready for school.

He made the bus.

(if this sounds familiar, its beacuse its from my other account that i just revived and edited)


	2. At Token's

Scary movies, the news, campfire stories....Tweek had a love/hate relationship with them all.

He had had to raise himself, god knew his parents didn't help him... and finding out about these stories, the obviously fake and the true but exaggerated, had jump started his paranoia. Anything that a five year old could figure out from un-censored, parental-guidance needed programs that no one bothered keeping him away from, were forever imprinted on his brain as things that could (and "_will"_) happen. No one taught him how to tell if a tale was fake, no one bothered to keep his small- kindergarten brain naïve; he hated them (the stories, that is...) for killing his mental health, and- in return, his social abilities.

But there were things Tweek liked about them. The main reason being that now that Tweek knew what people were capable of, he could prepare. Now that he was aware of the different ways to kill a man with a spoon or the motives one takes into his hands when joining the mafia, he could expect things, and knowing about them was a cursed relief.

The second reason was more childish... yet peaceful...

Every once and a while on the news, the bad guy is the one shot, and scary movies and stories had heros that Tweek grew to love and admire. A hero... someone who made it all go away... someone who would have kicked his child-neglectful parents' asses to the curb, someone who would have pulled out his own gun and shot the robber who's weapon was pointed at a damsel in distress. There was always a damsel in distress...

Anyways, I only tell you this, because he's having a rather tough time, you see- at this point in the large, bright, finished room of Token's basement. It was Token's "pre-party party"(Tweek figured it was a rich-kid thing...) in which all his "cool" guy friends hung out (Tweek also wondered how exactly he made that list), stayed over, then the next day more people would come (less important guys and, of course, the girls) over for a giant party which everyone was anticipating (you guessed it-) Beer. It turns out that many South Park teenagers had easy accessibility to that stuff. Now that Token was in high school, he had explained to the group once, His parents trusted him "alone" for his parties, which meant that he was with a butler, a maid, and a cook. -the bastard....- but those three could be told to go busy themselves, and Token assured everyone they wouldn't tell his parents about the illegal underage beverage or break anything up.

_SO_, currently, Tweek is hugging his knees, trying in vain to keep his eyes open during the whole movie, which (of COURSE) none of THEM think is even all that scary... Christophe himself said he'd seen much, much worse, Gregory nodded and no one pushed the matter for fear of answers.

Token said they were only going to watch a movie to wait out the time until it got dark, but Token wouldn't tell anyone what he had planed.

All the boys had been sitting, lying, or kneeling against a large couch in front of an even larger t.v. Tweek had run into the room last, and therefore had been awarded with the space on the floor to the left of the couch. Craig was on his side, sitting on the armrest, and from there was Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Token, Damien, Pip, Clyde, Christophe on the opposite armrest and Gregory on the opposite ground of Tweek. The brown swede couch technically fit only seven, but when two boys sat on either end and one on each armrest, it was still comfortable, especially to most who've never owned such a luxury, like Kenny for example.

They were only watching the movie when Christophe angrily reminded Tweek that it was physically impossible for zombie-like things to come out of the t.v, and then coolly stated- "Shut ze fuck up and let us watch 'I Am Legend'." [Yes, the movie had been out for two years already, but Token liked it, it was his party, and most of the kids hadn't seen it yet anyway, probably because of but not limited to; groundings, not enough money, poor planing, or should have been studding.] Tweek, upon hearing his name after trying to block peoples' voices out, screamed, then unknowingly started softly calling out things again. At this point in their practiced lives, people were finding it easy for the most part to ignore Tweek until the point where his screeching deafened out the soundtrack.

"Oh- come on, Tweek, calm down, the first fifteen minutes only just ended." Tweek jumped in his skin and turned up to see who had comforted him (not that it was necessary, he knew this raspy voice) he saw Craig's head and sympathetic smile inches away from his own; or so it felt like. (technically, he was _much_ higher up due to hight differences and the fact Tweek was on the ground and the brunette was on the armrest even higher up than most of the others)

Tweek immediately halted his shaking without the slightest hesitation and figured that "if Craig said it wasn't scary, how bad could it be?" Tweek even managed looking up at the screen for a bit; the movie was only on the flashback scene, where the people evacuated. Tweek did, however, jump a bit when he heard Christophe's next heavily laced French accent ring out in the echo of the largest basement he'd Tweek'd ever been in.

"Wait a zecond... Craig, how ze fuck were you able to calm zat spaz down?"

Tweek felt his neck get jerked to the right in a twitch. How _had_ Craig calmed him down? He hadn't said anything anyone else hadn't already tried... He looked back up to find Craig staring at **him- **not Christophe, Tweek- in annoyed confusion, which made Tweek shake all the more violently.

"Magic." Craig grunted as he dismissed the subject and turned back to the screen.

Tweek found himself staring at Craig, and would have started to become paranoid that Craig would think he was weird had he not realized he wasn't alone in the concept. In fact, Craig and Pip were the only ones still watching "I Am Legend." Most were looking at the back of Craig's head, some at Tweek, and Kenny was looking back and forth between them. Tweek had forgotten about Kenny though, so when his voice called out (rather loudly) Tweek felt himself shake.

"Aaaaahhhhh...... I get it." Tweek saw the other blonde look at him, then Craig, then smile at Stan (who had a blank look) before "intensely focusing" back at the t.v.

"What? ...What's there to get?" Craig had turned from the screaming zombie-like characters to stare Kenny strait in the eye, who just laughed softly to himself. The poor boy might not be book-smart, but he certainly _loved_ confusion and the power to make people ask him things only he knew, as Tweek noticed...

Kenny was still pretending to watch the screen as his smile widened to a sly look that just _screamed_ "bastard", and Craig looked like he was going to punch his face in just as soon as he figured out what the blonde had meant.

The welfare child gave up on staring past the supposedly creepy moving pictures on the screen and turned his head once more to Stan, keeping his inhuman smile. Tweek wondered that if Damien ever smiled, would it look scarier than Kenny's right now? What if Kenny, Damien, Christophe, Gregory, and *gasp* CRAIG all got into a demonic smiling contest and-

Tweek's paranoid thought process was cut short on the account of Kenny asking Stan in his broken-sentience-structure english "YOU get it?" he asked with that cocky look still plastered on his face; successfully creeping Tweek out.

"I get it now." Stan's smile in response was a lot less sadistic, but intimidating none the less. However- Craig couldn't glare at _him_ because of his angry focus on Kenny... Stan did, though, add an "It's okay." to Tweek.

What was okay? Oh my god.... Tweek was practically looking over the edge of the cliff of his sanity. Not being able to take much more of this, he began to shake violently; his glazed over eyes staring at the carpet in front of him. Had he been able to look up, he would have seen Craig looking at both him and Kenny with a mix of anger and confusion.

And then, just as Craig opened his mouth to speak again, a scream ran out in an echo in everyone's ears.

It took Tweek a full eighteen seconds of wide-eyed frantic searching before he realized it was the movie.

All fell silent. Even the movie reached a relatively quiet point. Some, such as Pip, weren't speaking because they were enjoying the movie, but others, like Tweek, Craig, Token, Kyle, Damien, and others whose interest had been invoked, were silenced because they were looking around and thinking about... anything.

Tweek's shaking had reduced but still been noticeable during the silence until he started wondering what the others were thinking about.

Why was KENNY looking at STAN?

Why was STAN smiling and rolling his eyes at KYLE?

Why were CLYDE and TOKEN looking at seemingly EVERYONE?

Why were GREGORY, DAMEIN and CHRISTOPHE looking pissed at anyone who had recently spoken?

(wait, wasn't that last one _normal_?)

but mostly-

Why was CRAIG looking at HIM?!?

In any other case, Tweek would have cried out in agony; for the pressure was too great, you see; but there was something in Craig's face... (sympathy? ...no... ...concern?) Kept Tweek silent, and inexplicably had the effect of making him turn his head to look somewhere, _anywhere_ else.

The window.

"...he-...hey guys?" The sudden words post-traumatizing silence would have made Tweek's heart race had he not been the one to speak up. Instead, all eyes turned silently to him. (Tweek could just _feel_ the looks as he started shaking and continued his diligent window watching)

"It's dark out."

Now, even Pip looked back from the movie, waiting for Token's explanation of why they had been waiting until this moment.

Token and his best friend Clyde stood up simultaneously as they both smiled and started to direct orders of where people would stand.


	3. ManHunt

OMG PLOT!

* * *

Ever hear of the game "Man Hunt"? Its almost like hide and seek, but made up more like a game of war. One team will seek out the other team, and if the hiders get tagged, they get brought to "Jail". Those in Jail can only be taken out of Jail by those of the same team that are willing to risk being seen to tag their teammate out. Eventually, all teammates must make it to "Base". Once you are on Base, you can't leave the perimeter to tag your teammates out. It is the leader's unspoken duty to make sure no one is in Jail before he is the last one to make it to Base. If all members make it to Base, then the hiders become the seekers. If the seekers manage to either get everyone in Jail or end the game with at least one person in Jail, then they keep on being the seekers. Which ever team is the seekers at the end of either a set amount of rounds or time wins. Seekers must not "goosey-guard" (must keep at least 15 feet away from both Base and Jail) and hiders must not leave the perimeter of the agreed upon section of the neighborhood. No one is allowed inside any houses, and if you get tagged, you must fess up. No flashlights are allowed, and you must play after dark. A "Man's Game" of hide and seek.

Token had made everyone wait until dark to play it. He called his best friend Clyde over and was going to make him the captain of the other team before realizing that that would mean they wouldn't be on the same side. "Anyone else here want to be the other captain?" Both Christophe and Gregory shot their hands up at the same time. Token saw where that debate was going and wanted no part of it, so he resigned as a team leader and promised spots to both of them so long as himself and Clyde could stay on the same team. It wasn't that bad of a thing for either leader, because Token and Clyde were both great at this game.

Gregory was more of the gentleman, so he let Christophe go first. Christophe took full advantage of this and chose the best person before he could be taken. Damien. Damien could always find the best hiding spots, could sit still for hours on end and was faster than most everyone. Gregory also was more of the gentleman in that he chose Token first for his team; it was his party, and he was a great seeker in that he knew the terrain and had the sharpest eyes. (could afford laser surgery) Picking Token obligated Gregory to also pick Clyde, but he didn't have to do so just yet. Christophe picked Kenny, a ruthless seeker who could always fish people out. Craig was now picked for Gregory's team. Christophe nodded to Stan, who was a good runner from football and had great hearing. Gregory chose this time to pick Clyde. Then Kyle was chosen for The Mole's team for ...well- being better than the last two options. Now only Pip and Tweek remained. Gregory's turn brought much thinking, and finally a decision, Pip. Christophe angrily sighed. Who ever had Pip had to deal with a bad player, but at least Pip listened intently to who was in charge, and never gave away his position. (unless tricked) Tweek was the best runner of all of them, even Damien, due to all of his energy, but he would yell out while hiding and go off on stressful tangents instead of listening to Christophe's plans. Tweek's team was usually doomed to never get out of hiding.

When he finally got over his last teammate; "Our team shall be called L'équipe Gagnante." Christophe said and then smirked and glared over at where Gregory's players stood.

"Then we will make ourselves known as... La Résistance." Gregory smiled as the other captain's smirk flipped into a narrow-eyed stare. Being part of La Résistance was the worst defeat of Christophe's life, and had been the most exciting part of young Gregory's.

"Fine. Base es Token's front steps, and Jail es underneath sie back porch. Perimeter es five houses on sie left and right, two streets forward, and sie woods in dua back up until K-Hill Cross Rd. We seek first."

"You got to pick everything else- La Résistance seeks first."

Staring match.

"...amende." Tweek noticed that Christophe would always assume he would get what he wanted, and usually did due to Gregory's gentleman generosity, but was quick to accept any refusal from Gregory. They were friends after all, best friends, but competitive. Very competitive. "L'équipe Gagnante! Réunion dans la cuisine!" Only two people in the basement knew any French at all, and those were Christophe himself and Kyle, to an extent. After L'équipe Gagnante's leader shouted that out and stormed off, Kyle gathered around the rest of his group's members and motioned they were to follow to the kitchen, leaving La Résistance the basement for their mission planning room. For some reason, when Christophe hit his leadership mode, he tended to switch to French.

"Okay so here is ze plan. Wait... we should halve two plans for each position. Plan A es codenamed Owl-Tree. Owl-Tree is random searching, Stan guarding _just_ outside of the perimeter of sie jail, Kyle the same for Base. Damien, Kenny, Tweek and Myself will spread out. Damien the woods, Myself sie left, Kenny right, and Tweek-"

"GAH! Uhhh--- What??"

"You are sie fahstest. You vill take the front two streets, because you can jump through the most traffic. Plan B is codeworded Ring of Fire. Guards remain, and players vill spread out to sie outermost perimeter and drive hiders inward."

Kyle spoke up. "We're actually supposed to be hiding first."

Christophe stared Kyle down and finally grunted something mean-sounding at him. "Plan C es Silent Night. Tweek vill be knocked out and hidden by Damien. Then Kenny vill-"

"GAHH! NO WAY! I DON'T WANT TO BE KNOCKED OUT!! WHAT IF NO ONE FINDS ME??"

"Dat is sie point."

In the end, neither plan included Tweek hiding at all, just doing what he liked. Both did, however, include Kenny getting 'dat spaz' out of Jail half way through, then Damien getting out Kyle towards the end. Kyle got angry and Stan offered to keep track of Kyle. Christophe was to check Jail before being the last to get on base and win for them.

* * *

It was two rounds later. L'équipe Gagnante had hidden the first and lost both times. At the beginning it was because Tweek was put in Jail, Kenny got him out and got on base, but Tweek wasn't sure where to go and got tagged again. Christophe saw Kenny on base and assumed everyone to be present, so he got on Base as well, ending the game with one person in Jail, losing. The round after that, Kyle and Stan got tagged, Stan getting himself in Jail trying to get Kyle out, and Christophe getting snuck up on by Gregory. Ending the game with half their people in Jail.

Christophe rubbed his forefingers over his temples. "Dis time, no one is to mess dis up for L'équipe Gagnante, or else whom ever does- gets it."

"IT? Sweet Jesus that's too much pressure!!"

"Good. Chanel that prezure into something useful."

At this point, Damien and Kenny were basically ignoring their stressed leader. Damien had done everything perfect and Kenny just wasn't one to care. Stan was noticing Christophe's absence of his shovel, but knew he could still receive "it" some other day. Kyle was glaring and saying something in French about how it was unethical to use this kind of force as a leader over Tweek. La Résistance came over and informed them that they were going back inside to reset the timer for L'équipe Gagnante's time to get hiding before they would start looking.

Tweek ran off before La Résistance even made it back in Token's house, not listening to Christophe's plan of action. They were in the rich neighborhood, and the yards were long and far apart. Tweek galloped a street forward and started running to the left.

Eventually, Tweek stopped dead in his tracks. Had he heard something? He dove into some random bushes. It was _really_ dark out, and the forsythias were up close to someone's house, and that only caused the paranoia that he would be found by not only the other team, but the owner of the house, and called down to the station.

A small gasp was heard. It wasn't a shocked gasp, it was more of the sound a girl makes at the first sight of a puppy in a box marked "free to good home". And it wasn't from Tweek. Which, of course, meant that a loud shocked noise followed it. "GAH!!"

"No, no! Shh~ everything's okay... Come here, come on- its fine, i'm not going to hurt you." Tweek turned to see Red, a girl from his grade, knelt down on her front steps holding out her hand like Tweek was a wild and scared animal that needed to be tamed. Which... he might have been.

Red was an odd one. Oh boy was she. She had a hard time fitting into her own category. Red looked at first glance like a scene kid, but more often than neon she would wear steampunk. There weren't enough kids in South Park to start that kind of group, so she mostly hung out with the anime kids. She spoke fluent fan-girl and flaunted that fact. However, she hated staying too long with one particular type of people, so every so often she would exclaim "I'm bored." in the middle of class or something, and then next period go off and find some new friends. Apparently, this particular weekend she was between friends, and curious as to why Tweek was in her bushes.

Tweek's sandy hair got caught up in the yellow buds of the bush, and his twitching pulled more at them. Red 'aawww'ed and tried to help Tweek out, but he backed up further until Red promised to move over to her steps again. When Tweek finally got out, he figured it was about time that La Résistance was out looking for him already.

"I c- cant stay to talk. Christophe will give me 'it' and I can't be found and it's dark and-"

"Shh.... it will -all- be okay, Tweek-kun. You want some coffee, Tweek? Come on inside and talk."

Coffee? Instead of being out here in the cold where Christophe could yell at him? "I ...i guess I could..."

Red took this opportunity to stop talking to Tweek like he were a timid kitten and grab his arm. "Aww! Tweekie-dee! You're so kawaii!" Then she brought him in for a forced hug. "Let's go get you coffee. Come on, sit over there!" She pointed to a chair at the long end of a dining room table closest to a large 52 pane window (Tweek counts things, remember?) that bulged outside. The whole room had an Irish feel to it, like a pub. The lights were dim, but somehow managed to illuminate the whole room. Red came back and placed a thermos and an entire two pots of coffee (she had heard rumors of how much he could drink) on the table and sat to the left of him. "So whats up? Why the hiding in my bushes?"

"I... uhh..." Tweek downed the whole thermos; then struggled with pronouncing the name of his team. "L... léqu-iepi.."

"Liquid? You want more coffee?"

"NO! No; I'm okay! I promise!" as Tweek's face grew into concern, Red continued to comment on how kawaii and uke Tweek-kun looked, and Tweek didn't understand any of it.

"K- kawaii?"

"Aww! Tweekie-dee! Kawaii means cute! You look so cute with your messy blonde hair and bitty shakes and careful mannerisms!"

"Cute? NO! That's too much pressure!" Tweek brought his legs up to his chest, socks on his seat, and stared into space, gripping his coffee with both hands.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

"GAH!"

"DON'T MOVE!"

"GAH!"

Red ran out of the room and came back with a camera. Before Tweek could even grasp what was going on, she took three pictures in seemingly a nanosecond. She came over to Tweek and threw a black messy wig over his hair, tussled it, made sure no blonde was showing, and proceeded to take many more pictures. "TWEEK-KUN! YOU DO A WONDERFUL COSPLAY OF L-KUN! What with your socks, jeans, white shirt (Tweek's mom didn't exactly keep him up on the latest fashions) and baggy eyes! Sit like this! Here hold this like this! Look more bored!" Several minutes of this went on...

"R-red? Whats a... L-kun?"

"Doesn't matter, I'm done now, I promise." Red calmed her voice down and talked in a way so as to not scare Tweek away.

"An- and uhhh... 'uke'. You said that a few times..."

Red smiled and looked over Tweek's head. A full minute passed, and Tweek began shivering. Had something happened to Red? Is she okay?? Is Red actually a robot and her self-destruct codeword is uke???

"Really wanna know? I think you should know. After a smidgen of thinking, I have decided that it is your own right to know what ...around ninety-five percent of the anime girls think about you, and roughly... forty percent of the rest of the girls at school, and... twelve percent of the combined guys." Tweek twitched. "We think you're an uke. Forty percent of us anime girls think you would just make the most kawaii uke in the school! Jill said she thinks Pip would be better, and that started a debate. You're loosing, sorry, but you could SO bring your numbers back up with these L pictures and if you actually _proved_ you were uke!" Tweek could keep up easy with the numbers, but had a hard time with everything else Red had just said.

"You... you uh -_gah, the pressure_- didn't tell me what uke is..." Tweek hid his head in his arms once more, sorry for speaking up to Red.

"...An uke is... First let me ask this- Is there anyone you like? As in, like-like?"

"...nha" Tweek's head and shoulders connected in a twitch once more.

"Come on, Tweek-kun! Tell me! I was the one who first supported you! And don't be afraid to tell me anything embarrassing, like that you like another guy or something."

"GAH! Guy? What- as in gay? That's too much-"

Red's face fell. She went to hug Tweek and put her head where his neck was. If she was right, (which she was) Tweek would take the gesture the same as another girl would- a comforting one. If Tweek liked girls, then he would have seen the too-close-for-anything-other-than-best-of-friends hug as something seductive. Tweek hugged back and then broke for coffee.

"I... guess i never thought about it before." Spastic twitch.

Red's face flew- soared. "Good! Because I think I just figured out that you do indeed prefer guys over girls. Uke means submissive one in yaoi, which is a guy/guy relationship. Most think that you would be great paired with your own sadistic seme, or the controlling of the two."

"GAH! S-sadistic?" Red laughed. Of everything she had just said, of course Tweek had to pull out 'sadistic' as the word to be concerned with.

"Don't worry, that's just a label. Our anime club doesn't want you with an _actual_ sadistic person... Pip is more popular in there, remember?" Then Red mumbled to herself a mental note: "we still have to turn him..." before continuing on with her thought "No; we figured you with someone else."

"What?!? Who?"

"I'm not tellin' less you say who you're interested in."

"GAH! I DONT KNOW! I DONT EVEN KNOW IF IM GAY! GAHHH THIS IS TOO MUCH PRESSURE!!"

And just then, the front door opened. Red forgot to lock it when she went off for coffee. It wasn't Red's parents, but it wasn't good, either.


	4. Leaving Red's aka Last Man Hunt round

* * *

"..."

"..."

"... -gah-"

"... Tweek? What are you doing here? In that? With _her_?"

Red skipped over to Tweek and pulled the black L wig off of him, because both had forgotten it was there. "I asked him to cosplay for me, and I got him some coffee. Mutual benefits." Red folded the wig and sat down in one of the seats at the far end of the dining room table. When she didn't stop being stared at, she added- "Don't mind me, I'm just here to observe."

Mumbling under his breath, the intruder mouthed 'freak' before ignoring Red and turning to Tweek. "Don't you remember Tweek? The rules were that no one was allowed indoors unless counting to seek."

"-gah- I'm sorry, i- I... I forgot... Sh- she offered me coffee and I didn't want to stay outside 'cuz of Christophe and it was getting really dark-"

-sigh- "It's okay Tweek. You really didn't want to play this anyway... I saw you through that big window there... At first I wasn't sure it was you, because of the black hair, but the sheer amount of coffee on the table made me want to check. I'm glad I found you; La Résistance is getting angry... everyone else made it to base and you're the only one left hiding. Tell you what, I wont tell anyone you went indoors and i'll lead them all over near K-hill Cross if you just make it to base quickly- Christophe is amazed that you could manage to stay hidden so long, but is getting impatient. The guards left to go help out in finding you so you should have no problems getting there." He waited until Tweek nodded before adding- "Just give me a few minutes to lead them away before you leave Red's." And with that, he was gone. Tweek stood in the doorway watching him go and then made his way back to Red, who looked deep in thought.

"...Man Hunt at Token's again?" Was the first thing she said.

"Ye- yeah." Tweek broke his rigid stand-still and lunged for his coffee.

"..."

"..."

"What do you think of him, Tweek-kun?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean- Just tell me how he acts around you. To me; he seems like a real Hikikomori. Like Japan before the black ships came"

"A _what?_ Is that another gay Japanese word?" Tweek ignored the black ships reference; it sounded like an anime thing Tweek didn't really want to get into.

"No. Well; not gay. It's someone who chooses to be alone a lot. Someone who doesn't like many people, usually stereotyped into an angry/too-calm asexual person who is lonely but doesn't _feel_ lonely."

"A ... a what? What's asexual mean?"

"Someone who likes neither girls nor guys. Opposite of Bi."

"..." Tweek looked into the maroon thermos and watched the liquid slush about. "oh." That made a lot of sense. He _had_ the tendency to ignore any girl who asked him out, along with that gay kid that one time before he moved...

"Well tell me about him- maybe I'm wrong."

Tweek thought about Craig. He was pretty close to being like that. "He usually yells at or flips off most of the guys or ignores girls a lot, and only hangs out with me, Clyde and Token. He even yells at Clyde and Token sometimes, but for the most part not at me. Of us four, Clyde and Token hang out together more, and Craig and I are best friends. I'm always doing stupid stuff, and he helps me out when I mess up too badly. Sometimes I think he is a lonely person, but once when I asked him that he said that he could never be lonely... If he looks lonely but isn't, then that means he is that word- right?"

"Hmm? Oh, no I don't think so. I think there's more hope for us yet."

Us? Who the hell is us? Her weird club? "You don't think he's an H-word?"

"Hikikomori? No, not anymore. They don't have best friends. Now I think he's just a genuinely angry person, which is fixable." Red smiled.

It was silent for a while. Tweek finished off the first pot of coffee, and Red absentmindedly flipped through the pictures on her camera.

"It's him you know."

"What? What about him?"

"It's just... It's him. He's the seme we paired you with."

Tweek paused, trying to remember what seme meant. "GAH! NO! THATS WAY TOO MUCH PRESSURE!!"

"Well you better hurry up and get out there; I think by now he has everyone over in the woods."

"Oh god; you're right!"

"Always am. I thought I was wrong once; but I was mistaken."

........this girl is insane. At least she's not the paranoid and spazy kind of insane, and is able to find new friends every week or so... Good for her.

Tweek left as quietly as he could muster, leaving the precious coffee behind at it's owner's house.

* * *

"And where ze hell halve you been?"

"I won for us, d- didn't I?"

"Fhuck, How?"

"..." Tweek shifted his weight from his left to his right foot. Underneath his feet was the smooth slate of Token's front steps. "The near-flawless spot where I can only be found by helpfulness, happiness, and the ones who truly need to find me for my own benefit."

Christophe rolled his eyes, having no idea what Tweek was going off about now. Well... Who really ever knows? Tweek himself wasn't entirely sure. There were still three more rounds to go, and they were down two/one. Time to break out the heavy leadership skills. Christophe set the timer. Now that Tweek won something for his team for once; L'équipe Gagnante was going to use Tweek's energy, Kenny's seeking skills, Stan's diligent senses, Kyle as a guard, and Damien's night-sight and all-arround great reflexes for the beating of La Résistance's short life.

* * *

Author's Notes: In case you were wondering (and I should have put this last chapter) The teams are as follows-

L'équipe Gagnante: Christophe, Damien, Kenny, Stan, Kyle, Tweek

La Résistance: Gregory, Token, Craig, Clyde, Pip

................which, of course, means that Craig went against his own team to help his BF (best friend, you pervs, not boy friend) (...yet)

**also, Man Hunt is going to be over now. Next chapter is going to be back at Token's

Also; Hikikomori and that statement revolves around the webcomic/anime "Axis Powers Hetalia"- and I own neither that or anything south park related. Just the plot.


	5. Drunk

Tweek kept relatively still as he stared at the floor in front of him and his hand traveled to his pocket. He pulled out what looked similar in shape to that of rolled up bills, but it was actually fourteen pieces of computer paper cut into five strips each and taped end to end. Written on this long list was random things in Tweek's life. He kept this list with him most anywhere he went. He kept this important list frequently updated. Tweek found a pen easily in it's drawer (he prided himself in knowing the layout of most all the houses he'd been in) and started unraveling the long list. Next to words that were barely legible to anyone other than the writer, were numbers written in the same fashion. Wavy paper reached the floor before Tweek uncapped the pen and scribbled over a number, re-writing something in the remarkably small space left next to it. "TOKEN'S KITCHEN FLOOR TILES... 453" now read "TOKEN'S KITCHEN FLOOR TILES... 452- ONE BROKEN AS OF OCT. 29th '09". Then he went down more to the end and rostered in a new entry. "RED'S FRONT WINDOWS... 52 PANE COUNT" Capping the pen and rolling the list back up, he replaced the rubber band that kept it all tight and tiptoed out of Token's kitchen. Not that he was sensitive to others' waking up (for one; they weren't asleep...)- he didn't want anyone finding out about his 'little secret' and embarrassing him with it or worse; ruining his hard work. Tweek was also careful to replace the list often so as to not have it be too convex and noticeable in his pocket and keep all the combined lists in two shoe boxes in his closet. Making his way over to the counter, he poured himself his fourth coffee of the night and used that as an excuse as to why he was upstairs. Tweek cupped the thermos in his hands;_ his_ thermos this time, and looked back at the broken tile once more before closing the basement door. He needed to figure out why it was broken and who exactly dared to disrupt the symmetry of it. More than that- he needed to figure out a way to get back in Token's house in a week or so to check up on this poor white square and keep his list as updated as possible. Maybe he could convince Craig to ask Token to have another group sleepover... He'd invite Clyde. It'd be just the four of them. No pressure.

* * *

Walking down the steps, Tweek mentally noted where everyone was. Christophe and Gregory were fighting over which one slept on the couch, Damien found himself a corner, Stan and Kyle were over on the far end of the room by some sort of suede ottoman, Pip was looking around for a spot- settling under the stairs, Clyde and Token were up by the huge t.v. (Clyde checking out the games; Token shaking his head and informing Christophe and Gregory that the couch pulled out to a bed), and Craig behind the couch (which was in the middle of the room, not against a wall). The only places where Tweek could fit in anywhere were back further behind the couch or the floor in front of the stairs where a giant stereo was located. He choose over by Craig.

"Ah, that may be as well; but you lost that one time to...-"

Tweek closed his eyes tight. He couldn't stand when people fought. Why were they fighting? It's just a bed... They're supposed to be best friends.

. . .

What if they're _pretending_ to be best friends? Tweek's eyes snapped open. What if they're both hired by different agencies to get to know each other before they turn and kill each other?? Like Mr and Mrs Smith?

"Hey Tweek."

"GAH!" Tweek practically gave himself whiplash. "What?? Oh, Craig-"

Craig gave a look that read 'omg, calm down' and 'dude, you're funny' at the same time. Small laughing and shaking his head, looking over to the left before smiling and continuing his talk with Tweek. "They're fine. Both stubborn as shit, sure- but nothing has managed to break them apart so far. They'll end up either settling it with a competition or just both sleeping in it."

Tweek turned back over to the missionaries. Sure enough, Gregory was setting up his things on one side of the pull-out mattress, and Christophe was pouting sitting indian-style glaring at Gregory. When the later turned around, he received a light punch in the arm by his best friend, but all that did apparently was make both of them smile and become best friends again. Some how.

Turning back, Tweek stared at Craig in the pleading-that-you-dont-hate-me-for-sleeping-near-you way. Receiving a nod, Tweek let out a sigh of relief and unrolled his forest green sleeping bag. Everyone was set up now, and Clyde turned off the lights; save for one dim one above the t.v. This, of course, forced Tweek to jump, and so Craig put his hand on Tweek's shoulder to calm him. Craig had saw that one coming from a mile away.

"Let's play truth or dare!" Kenny. It was Kenny. How could it not have been Kenny? ...where _was_ Kenny? Tweek hadn't seen him...

Oh my god... Kenny was on top of a cabinet. "GAH! KENNY! GET DOWN! YOU'RE GOING TO FALL AND CRACK YOUR HEAD OPEN!!"

"...wouldn't be the first time..." But Kenny jumped down anyway. Don't think for a second that Kenny was listening to Tweek. No. Kenny jumped down so he could walk over to Tweek and place a finger under Tweek's chin, lifting it up and looking seductive. Tweek froze and shook involuntarily, causing Kenny to laugh and turn back the bulk of the crowd. The product of this was a spazm so out of control that even Tweek's mind wasn't there enough to hear the low growl from Craig, who dismissed the conversation with-

"Kenny, that's retarded. Who plays truth or dare anymore?" This might be a good time to mention that Craig hated Kenny with a passion. They got into a fight before Man Hunt, were against each other during the game, and now a conflict was arising once again... This might also be a good time to mention that Kenny broke into the booze a little early... Most all of the other guys were drinking too, but Kenny was the only one who jumped on the idea of free liquor and was currently buzzed.

"Aww; that's no fun~! Com'on! I betcha Stan'll play!! Stan?" Kenny was one of those people that could pull off acting gay and still seem like a strait man-whore. No one said anything, mostly because no one wanted Kenny to do the same thing to them.

Stan had his hand on the bridge of his nose. "augh... fine, Kenny, alright; fine."

Kyle spoke up. "I guess I'll play..."

"Oh, right-o then! I shall play as well! It seems like such jolly good fun!" Pip had a bit to drink as well, (not nearly as much, but it was the first time he ever drank) and his accent apparently became stronger.

Indistinguishable mumbles from Damien, pulling his head out from under a black sheet, indicating he'd be fine playing.

Taking that as a sign that everyone would join him, (though six people still hadn't stated their opinions) Kenny jumped up on the ottoman. "Clyde! Truth or Dare?"

"...this is a girls game..."

"God damn it Clyde! Truth or fucking Dare??"

"Dare." Clyde wasn't one to act like a pussy. He might have been when he was younger, but his dad divorced his mom and well, he grew up, in short.

"I dare youuu......" Kenny looked around, thinking. "To make a sex noise."

Clyde laughed before moaning; Oh!! Bebe!! Don't!! Most everyone laughed. Bebe was such a slut. "Okay..." Clyde turned to Token, but he wore a 'don't fuck with me' look, so Clyde switched to someone else. "Damien."

Damien rolled his eyes, but he had agreed to play. "Dare." Damien didn't fuck around.

"I dare you to answer my question truthfully." This brought about some protest from Kyle that the rules were being bent, but no one really gave much a care.

"Fine; what?"

"How long have you been a victim of self-abuse?" Kenny, Christophe, Gregory, and Token laughed- Stan chuckled lightly and the others looked away. Craig was still refusing to play.

Damien remained emotionless until the laughing died out before "I haven't. Why would I hurt myself when there are so many other people out there to mutilate?" Aaaand cue the demonic smile that sent Tweek back into a fit! "Gregory; Truth or Dare?"

"Truth, I suppose. I don't want to get up."

"If you had to choose two people in this room to be a gay couple, who would they be, and who would top?" Woah. No one expected that of Damien. Everyone's attentions were caught- even Craig's. (who decided now that the game was worth his time)

"I'd definitely have to saaay..." Suspense. "Stan would so top Kyle."

Longer, fuller laughs hadn't been heard all night. Stan gasped and Kyle fucking _blushed._ Both remained silent. Clyde spoke up- "Are you sure Stan would top? Kyle seems more aggressive than him, I mean, Stan has his hippie moments."

"True, true, but Stan has muscles from football..."

Then Christophe: "Sie point es, Neither of them are all dat mazculine; Dat es why they are sie gayest."

"-est?"

"Well, everyone's a little bit gay, right? Weren't our parents talking about that once?" Tweek's eyes darted around, but the conversation was passing so quickly in a direction he didn't want to go, that he didn't even know who was talking anymore. Well, that is, until Kenny. It was always Kenny it seemed that complicated things like sleepovers.

"If Stan tops Kyle- who wins in the old married couple over there on the bed?" The perverted blonde pointed to Gregory and Christophe. Surprisingly, neither blushed at the expectation. They just looked at one another, daring the other to move.

"Oh, hell." Damien pulled his head back under his black sheet.

"Don't think you're getting away from this! You would totally tap Pip's ass given the chance." Pip squeaked and looked over at Kenny.

"Damien sir?" Pip to Kenny. Not really an 'are you shitting me?' question, more of a 'you really think that?'.

Someone else- "Yeah, I heard girls practically screaming that in the hallway about last month!"

Damien sat up and brushed hair out of his eyes. He brought his hand to his chin as if he were stroking a non-existent beard. "I just might." Pip giggled at that. "But my two cents on the subject? How is Craig the only one that can- as he himself put it, 'magically' calm Tweek down?" Oh god. Tweek's nightmare situation. Being the center of attention as well as the topic being on something Tweek wasn't all that comfortable dealing with.

A sudden voice to Tweek's left made him jump. "I'm not fucking gay, dude."

"Don't be a kill-joy, we're just having fun! But if you don't want 'm, I'll have 'm!"

"GAH! Kenny! You're drunk!" Kenny almost slipped off the ottoman in his stumble to Tweek. Gregory, Kyle and himself were the only ones who hadn't drunk anything. Pip was trying his first drink tonight.

Craig to the rescue. "Come on Kenny, we all know that you only want Tweek because Pip is off limits and he's the only other blonde here to remind you of your precious Butters. Or do you prefer dressing him up like Marjorine?" collective 'ooh!!'s rang out.

"Hey! I'm a blonde!" Gregory snarled. Which in return caused Christophe to remind him that Kenny wanted to be the guy.

"So long as we're basing all this on friendships, who's the girl in Token ex Clyde?" Craig continued.

Token sat up and Clyde turned to face him. Looking at each other for a few seconds, they both broke at the same time and Token said, "Wait, wait. We still haven't solved the missionary problem." -successfully re-directing the conversation back to the two teens on the pull-out bed.

* * *

Alright, i got to the point where i don't have plans anymore... I know i still have to write the actual party... Oh, and not all these people actually get together; they're just drunk and fucking around.


	6. Strawberries

A look-back chapter for future reference

* * *

_It was a cool March Saturday, a few months ago. Tweek was visiting his nani, (who only lived a few blocks away) like he did every now and then when he was lonely. Nani was cleaning and cutting up foods for a family gathering; one Tweek was not looking forward to all that much. There was always screaming to avoid. The last one had been over a year ago, and it took a while for everyone to calm down and agree to get together. Nani was old, and every now and then- felt the need to pass on wisdom to her grandson. Tweek always listened out of respect, even though he was usually just thinking about how much more soothing the world was at his nani's._

"_All parents damage their children. It can not be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair." Nani stopped shaping the cantaloupe and studied a piece. "That's a quote you know. From a book. The Five People You Meet in Heaven." At this point, Tweek saw the life-lesson that was coming and sat down at the round kitchen table, eying the crumbs that dare taint the surface. Nani continued; her face crestfallen. "I did nothing. Did you know that? ...I basically ignored your mother while she was being screamed at as a child by her father... The older she got, the more... physical... your grandfather got. He hit her when she disobeyed. His father wasn't all that attentive to _him_, you see, and so he saw nothing wrong with that. You came from a long line, on both sides unfortunately, of parents ignoring their kids, and then that generation becomes the one that hits their kids, then over again with ignoring. It's a cycle, you see." Tweek looked up from the table to find Nani staring strait at him- standing right next to the sink (from which was lazily dripping water), but not doing anything but standing. Standing at looking right into Tweek's eyes. He fidgeted. "A cycle." she repeated, "And I want it broken. Your mother never forgave me for allowing her turn to come. I only hope... that I can break it with you." _

_Nani noticed she was making her grandson uncomfortable, and reminded herself that wasn't the point of this, and she wanted him to feel like her house was a safe place. She turned back to the bowls of fruits on the counter and chose the strawberries. She raised a knife to cut off the green leaves, when something in Tweek pulled from within him. His impulse was to yell out; to stop his nani from cutting them up. That knife... Without him even managing to sneak a twitch in, Nani stopped; mid-chop. _

"_You... don't remember the strawberries... do you?" Something in her voice hinted that she really, really hoped he did. Turning back over, she witnessed a nod from Tweek and picked up a strawberry from the freshly washed pile. _

"_Kinda." Tweek added when Nani placed the pink/red fruit in his hands. "...n- no. But I remember something being important with strawberries involved."_

_Nani nodded, as if that was exactly what she had expected. "You were little. Really little. It hadn't all sunk into yet that..." She slowly shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts. "You were little. I divorced your son-of-a-bitch grandfather and moved closer to you when I could locate your mom. Closer to you, not your... _mother_. Every once and a while, even back then, you would walk over here to this house. Or, you were left alone in that coffee shop with a call from your mom along the lines of 'We're not paying for a damn babysitter and we're not driving him anywhere. Be back in a week.' and thats all. Two sentences at most, not even a 'hello'. She'd hang up and I'd drive down to that shop you live in and bring you back here. She'd always be gone longer than she'd say, off with your father doing god knows what." _

_Nani fake-smiled and sat down at the table to the left of Tweek. She put her hands on her chin, elbows on the table next to the strawberry bowl she had brought over. "Once, before you were born, a co-worker of mine got me a gift for my birthday. It wasn't a big one because we weren't all that acquainted, but she was really into sewing. She gave me a basket of twenty or so plush strawberries. I use to leave them out on the table in the living room because they matched the curtains. Well once, you walked over here. Your parents didn't even know you were gone for four days. You must have been four, maybe five. When you came in, you were astonished by those strawberries. You turned them into a game. Almost immediately after walking in, you picked up the wicker basket and told me not to look." Nani poked a strawberry around the bowl, her face a soft nani-smile. "You hid them. And I was in charge of finding them. From that day on, every time you came over here, you ran strait to those plush strawberries." She laughed, "On days when I was busy, I used to take a few out before you got here so that I'd have less to find!" Smiling, Nani finally looked back up at Tweek, who was innocently looking back. "Well one time, I offered you a real strawberry, to eat. And you said... 'Nani, you can't eat that. It's a special happy-thing.' Well... my heart just broke. You didn't have, or probably still don't have, many things that made you happy... but this... simple fruit..." She went on, "Time passed and you weren't so little anymore. Not as innocent, and things sunk in I guess. You started having these... phobias. You refused to try any new foods for one reason or another. I'm sure that you still haven't tried a strawberry, even after all these years. Even after the day when you hiding them stopped." _

_Tweek thought back. He could remember the feel of the soft, cool, red material; big in his young hands. Nani smirked in the way that grandmothers do when they think they're giving you the key to life, when all you're really discussing is woven string that made a child smile, and continued; "I found those plush strawberries yesterday. They're up on the top shelf of the hall closet. They got me thinking, which, is actually the reason for this chat. When you grow up and find the person you want to be with for forever, I'm going to give you them to leave out on _your_ table. And please," she stared Tweek down, who twitched out of habit, "Don't let the cycle go on. Let them be your happy reminder of how wonderful childhood could be."_

_  
Tweek nodded and looked down at the fruit Nani had before placed in his hands. It was staining his fingers. "So... did you... want me to try it?" lifting his hands._

"_Don't bother." Nani stood back up and went over to her sink, skipping the strawberries and moving on to the watermelon. "The ones I put into family fruit salads are always bitter."_


	7. postboredom

Please keep in mind that Gregory is extra evil cuz of something explained later on. Give him slack- he cries later. And Kyle is just in it for the laughs, (aka: to see stans reaction)  


* * *

Tweek felt something prod at his side. Aughhhh he didn't feel like dealing with his paranoid world today. Wonder what would happen if he just laid here for...

"PST! Tweek~" there was a loud whisper in his ear. It almost didn't qualify as a whisper.

Before Tweek could shout out from being startled, a hand covered his mouth to keep him from screaming. Tweek, now feeling justified in being scared, tried to scream again; louder. But the grip was pretty tight.

"Calm down- It's just me and Kyle." Tweek finally gained the courage to open his eyes, and turned over so he wasn't looking into his pillow. Gregory. What did he want? Unless... Unless Gregory was listed into the mafia and he needs recruits and Kyle-

"Actually, that sentience should have gone, 'It's only Kyle and I.'" Kyle was talking in a normal volume of a voice. Gregory shushed him (loudly) as well before looking back at Tweek and releasing his hand from him. Tweek twitched, shaking with worry, and opened his mouth as to scream again, but something in Gregory's eyes strongly suggested he didn't. Tweek shut up.

"Tweek; Us three were the only ones that ended up not getting themselves completely drunk enough not to remember what happened, right?" Gregory had a habit of going slow and explaining things around Tweek as if he were mentally incapable of thought past a toddler's capacity. Tweek usually didn't mind it, (Gregory at least talked to him on occasion) but sometimes wanted to tell Gregory that he understood, and not to talk down to him. Neither ever would. Gregory enjoyed talking down to people, and Tweek would never muster up the courage to say anything near that.

Tweek nodded, and for good measure, he added; "Ye- yeah. Around one-forty seven, you dared Damien to drink..." Tweek thought back. "Eight beers. And then after that, everyone started seeing how much they could drink, Pip threw up, and us three were the last to fall asleep, due to everyone passing out, aaat... Three-ish. Maybe closer to Three-ten." Tweek glanced at the clock on the cablebox. Nine twenty six A.M. That was pretty good time for Tweek... He usually only got in less than four hours of sleep. This night he managed five, almost six hours. Over to his side, Tweek noticed Craig slept on his right, facing Tweek, in a sort of spread out position. He kicked the covers off in his sleep- a habit Tweek already had wrote down on his 'friends' mannerisms' list.

Gregory looked surprised at how much Tweek remembered. If he wanted to, Tweek could recall most anything from from the smallest detail to the largest number, and if he couldn't- well, that was what his lists were for. And paranoia kept him constantly checking clocks, so most of his information was accurate. "Good, Tweek- Yes. That is just what happened." Gregory jumped up on the armrest, Kyle leaned against a support beam, and Tweek sat up from his spot behind behind the couch, looking around. His drunken friends, he noted, were still passed out. "Tweek. We are going to play a little joke on our friends, okay? If it's too much pressure, then you don't have to be a part of it- but you will then have to pretend you don't remember anything that happened, okay?"

He was doing it again, talking down to Tweek. Imagine that- Gregory, being the one to cause a paranoia attack? Tweek always had thought it was Kenny that ruined sleepovers... "What exactly... do you mean by... little, j-_joke_?" Tweek pulled at his wheat hair. This was not good. If Cr-... if_ anyone _for that matter, got pranked on... they'd be angry... "I don't want any part of this. Please. Please. Just... Just don't prank them!"

Gregory shushed Tweek another time and rolled his eyes. "We figured as much... Listen. Since you are going to be the only one that has any memory of last night, and since you want no part in this, you are going to have to pretend like you know nothing. You are going to have to go along with acting in the same manners as the others, but don't worry; what _Kyle and I,_" Gregory's eyes traveled back to Kyle, in proving he knew his grammar, "say is all going to be a lie. Now- act like you don't know what happened; in other words, freak out. Go all paranoia and spastic over not being able to remember anything. But don't give us away."

Tweek looked at Gregory in confusion. Not that he didn't understand, but more because his range of emotions didn't include any form of anger past skepticism. Tweek didn't want to lie. He didn't think he could. The blonde spaz shook his head roughly many times, repeating 'no' until he got loud enough that Gregory cupped his mouth again. Clyde stirred and Kyle searched the room for signs of anyone waking up. "Listen Tweek," Gregory continued softly, releasing the blonde, "Have you ever done _anything_ in your life even the slightest _bit_ dangerous?" that kept Tweek quiet. He couldn't recall he had. "Help us by pretending you aren't helping us." Tweek rubbed his eyes.

"...What are you going to do?"

Gregory didn't skip a beat. "If you won't help us, its better you don't know."

Tweek considered this. "I- ...I thought I was helping. By pretending not to help?" As the sentence droned on, it got faster with fear.

"You have to 'not know' anything no matter if you help us or not; Tweek."

Tweek kicked his sleeping bag off him and crossed his legs under himself before closing his eyes tight and rubbing his head. He had a headache. "...is it going to be bad?"

This time, Gregory had to look to Kyle for conformation. Kyle saved them by quickly adding, "Of course not. Guys play tricks on each other all the time- where have you been?"

Tweek stared at the two as Gregory nodded to Kyle and they ignored him, starting their plan anyway, moving things around. First, they pushed the couch/bed _with Christophe still on it_ over by Stan, clearing space in the middle of the floor. When Kyle started pulling everyone's sleeping bags to face the center and Gregory was setting up beer bottles the same way, Tweek got nervous enough to make himself bothersome.

"Great. Just great. I knew we'd have to 'Plan B' it." Gregory came over to where Tweek was shaking. After taking a few seconds to ponder something, he pulled Tweek by his long blonde hair (Tweek had tough enough roots from years of pulling it himself to be half dragged) upstairs and into the main-floor, cleaning-supply, walk-in closet. He locked it. From behind the door, he called to his captive- "Tweek. I am serious. Do. Not. Leave. This. Closet. Do not make any loud noises." and with that, he left- the spaz huddled up by the corner.


	8. The Prank, Unfolded

Im sorry for the late update, but ive been dealing with some shit lately. My best friend-

...ive been dealing with shit... Uhh... this ISNT meant to be symbolic- fyi. I DO NOT RECOMMEND ATTEMPTING THIS PRANK. (and I don't own south park.)

--------------------------

Tweek didn't know how long he sat there in the closet, reading and re-reading labels on cleaning supples, but it must have been a long while, because he had memorized fourteen of the twenty-six spray-bottles before the hired maid opened the door.

"GAAH!!"

"Oh! Oh my goodness- Ummm... ...why...?"

"CLOSE THE DOOR! IM NOT ALOUD TO LEAVE!" then with a twitch Tweek realized something. He covered his mouth and though his fingers continued- "m nut alud tu make loud mnuises, eiver!"

"...well..." the maid mumbled to herself then before knitting her eyebrows, grabbing some supplies and closing the door softly on a random shaking blonde boy in her work station. Some things were best to ignore.

So there Tweek sat. He listened to nothing, then eventually listened to moaning over headaches, then a few gasps, which caught his attention fully- and then he listened to nothing for a little bit longer. Then frantic running and stomping, some more nothing with a hint of voices, and more stomping/running.

"TWEEK!! TWEEK, I'M SORRY! WHERE ARE YOU?"

Tweek's pupils dilated and he covered his hands over his mouth to keep from calling out. That was Craig's voice. But why would he be sorry? What happened??

He had been told to keep quiet, but this is Tweek we're talking about here. A few involuntary squeaks later and Craig burst the door open.

"TWEEK! Did...?" Craig noticed how scared his friend looked and sat down to get to his level. He put his hands on each shoulder and apologized again, leaving Tweek even more confused. "Did I... hurt you Tweek?"

Had Craig hurt him? Had something happened? Did Craig do something to him in his sleep?? Tweek's mind ran through several questions, hypothesizes and conclusions that made no sense. Eventually, he settled with "I- I don't know." and covering his face. Because, as we all know, it was too much pressure to answer something you aren't sure the circumstances.

Then, to his surprise, Craig hugged him. And not just a half/man-hug; a tight, comforting hug.

...

"Craig...?" Tweek enjoyed the hug but was becoming concerned with the out of character behavior of the ebony-haired teen.

"You- did... did you _want_ to talk about it?" Craig's face became worried- visibly. Tweek disliked that emotion on Craig so he shook his head no, still not entirely sure what was going on. He did want to talk about it- maybe that would give him some answers, but obviously Craig did not. "Okay then." Craig appeared to stare off into the distance for a while. For a _while_, actually. It was worrying Tweek, but he wouldn't have dared disrupt Craig except for accidentally, which is what happened when his arm kinda spazed into his friend's. "Lets... just... go back downstairs." Craig lifted himself and pulled Tweek up by his shoulders (which he was still holding onto).

"I.." Tweek didn't step out into the hallway.

"Tweek?"

Tweek shut his eyes and attempted (failed) to put his words together coherently. "said- - -dont leave... - serious... n-noise-"

Craig's face was a cross of confusion and shock. "Just... Its okay... just- just come on, everyone else is downstairs..."

Everyone? Kyle and Gregory would know he left the closet! What if this ruined their plans? Tweek rationalized that they'd have known Craig came up here to fetch him (and since they didn't stop him), he could go down.

Probably.

If Craig said it was okay.

------------Craig's View-----------------

He woke up with a hangover. Not unusual. He woke up in Token's basement. Still not out of the norm. He looked around at others' shocked faces. A bit peculiar... He fully awakened to the sight of a stripper pole in the middle of the floor. Woah. What just happened?

Clyde shouted over to Token. "SAYS _WHAT_?"

"It says... 'John Doe- Best male-stripper in North Park. Paid hourly- call for details' and then a number...""

...what?

"WHAT?" ...huh?

"I don't know! Thats the highlighted part!" Clyde stole the yellowpages book from its rightful owner and took a look for himself. Sure enough- a number was highlighted for a male stripper and there was a suspicious stripper pole in the middle of some sort of sleeping-bag circle Craig couldn't remember arranging in.

"Oh. My. God." someone called.

Damien at least brought some of his shit together, "Who here doesn't have a hangover?" Gregory and Kyle raised their hands. "Now what the FUCK happened here?"

If I were Gregory or Kyle, I wouldn't have messed with that tone, and I throughly enjoy messing. Damien owned a very demanding accent.

Kyle offered answers. "All I remember is Gregory going upstairs for something, and one of you- I can't remember who- it was dark and you all jumped on the idea at once, kind of... suggested" Kyle pointed at the address book with all the sinful glare he could muster. "Um... I think I remember Gregory coming back down, but I think I... passed out..." Kyle looked to Gregory for conformation.

"Yes... I went upstairs to go use the bathroom and when I came back down, you were all huddled together like you had a secret, over some add or something, evidently- that." Gregory pointed to the book. "Kyle was on the couch- and he looked red. Really red. Sickly red. I took him upstairs to find a thermometer. A bit later he had cooled down but I wanted the number of the closest doctor, just in case- and so I started walking downstairs. Craig- you had Tweek's wrist in your grip and were coming up to the middle floor as I went down, and at the time, I thought nothing of it, but when I reached the basement..."

wait. What?

Craig looked around. There was no Tweek to be found.

"There was... how do I put this... You were all preoccupied in something else. I asked Token for a doctors number but he was yelling something and I just kind of wanted to leave... When I went back up, Kyle was passed out but his fever had gone, so I stayed up there and when Kyle woke up, we came back here. I almost thought I had imagined the whole thing..."

Craig spoke his first words of the morning. "Then where's Tweek?"

"He never came back down..."

And that was all Craig needed to hear. While the others started up by accusing each other of being the one to suggest a gay stripper, he ran upstairs to find his best friend. "TWEEK!! TWEEK, I'M SORRY! WHERE ARE YOU?" Craig didn't remember anything. He could have done anything from locking Tweek outside to beating him up to ...seducing him. Craig wouldn't have admitted it, but that couldn't exactly be ruled out as and option. Whatever it was, whatever he had done- Tweek would remember, and for that Craig decided to cover his bases and apologize, something somewhat of a rare occurrence for him.

There! Craig heard a noise; a Tweek-like noise. He paused. There it was again, the cleaning supply closet. Oh god, a closet? He locked Tweek in a closet? What else had he done? Craig yanked open the door. "TWEEK! Did...?"

But then he saw the literally shaking blonde, eyes wide and covering his mouth. Even for Tweek, that's a bad sign right there. Craig dropped to sitting on his feet, holding Tweek's shoulders to try and calm him down. Oh god... What had he done? "Did I... hurt you Tweek?" Craig was afraid of the answer.

It took Tweek close to fifteen seconds to respond. "I- I don't know." Tweek then proceeded to cover his face in his arms.

Tweek... He must have really scared him. That sounded like code for 'I don't want to talk about it.' Whatever he had done, Craig wanted to redeem his actions. He couldn't loose his only real friend.

Craig brought Tweek into a hug. He had only done so a few times before (...for Tweek's benifit...) but found it effective at helping soothe the blonde, but on the flip side, would cause Tweek to think more- about things like why he was getting a rare hug. Craig didn't need Tweek thinking and reliving whatever happened, so he cut the hug off sooner than he felt to be ready.

"Craig...?"

Oh no. He got Tweek stressed up. That might be the worst possible outcome.

Or maybe he just wants to talk about it. Craig wouldn't mind some answers, but he really felt uncomfortable discussing this with Tweek. "You- did... did you _want_ to talk about it?"

For a minute there, Craig tried searching through every part of his brain for what he knew he could tell about the different types of stress Tweek could get caught up in, but these reactions weren't all that similar to other things comparatively. (which means this must be a new thing- and Craig had never, lets say, raped before, for one of the many examples) Turning back to the matter at hand, Craig attempted to dismiss the conversation with "Lets... just... go back downstairs." He pulled himself up and then Tweek by his shoulders. He looked the coffee-addict strait in the eye (though that usually made him uncomfortable)

Leaving, Craig pulled Tweek's hand out with him. Or tried to. "I.." Tweek didn't step out into the hallway.

"Tweek?" Craig wasn't expecting Tweek to get over this easy...

Tweek shut his eyes. "said- - -don't leave... - serious... n-noise-"

Craig tried to piece together the string of words. He had said not to leave him because he was serious and not to make to loud love-noises? That was MUCH worse than he had expected... Okay, now he was conclution-jumping like Tweek.

"Just... Its okay... just- just come on, everyone else is downstairs..."

Everyone else is downstairs. They can help piece this together. Craig had done all the Tweek-translating he needed and all the human emotion comfort-expressing he could manage for now.


	9. Just wondering

When all was well and settled, Kyle had a bruised shin from where both Craig and Clyde had kicked him, and Gregory's shirt was burnt from one of Damien's (even more) menacing glares. Not to mention the whole eight minute silent fight between Gregory and Christophe. But, they were all guys and guys will be guys, so ...everything was well and settled, to be blunt.

Craig kept thinking back to when he asked Tweek what was going on. Of course the answer was that he didn't know- why would he expect anything different? It was such a relief that it was all a joke. Craig almost hugged Tweek again for scaring him like that. Almost. Tweek after all, didn't know what was going on. Which was fucking... Craig couldn't put a word to it. Tweek-like.

The teenagers were at a long living room table. Usually when Craig slept over, they ate breakfast in the kitchen because they didn't ever need more than four chairs, but now in a room of fine china, Craig felt the sudden urge to spill something on the table cloth. Just to see what would happen. Token of course sat at the end, and clockwise sat Clyde, himself, Tweek, Pip, Damien, Christophe at the other end, Gregory, an empty seat, Kenny, Kyle, and Stan to the other side of Token. It was always fairly easy to tell where the shift in relationships lyes.

Token's cook brought out mounds of pancakes, french toast, bacon, eight different flavors of syrup, confectioners sugar, fresh fruit, and even some ham slices. Token thought nothing of it, and dug right into the chocolate chip pancakes. Clyde and Craig were somewhat used to the inordinate amount of breakfast foods, and, though he insisted (silently to himself- no one noticed) on taking inventory on just how much of everything there was, Tweek settled into gathering food without the startled looks some of the other teens were giving. "THAT is breakfast??" called Kenny. Before waiting for an answer however, he started just piling things on his plate like it was his last meal on earth.

Craig found this rather amusing, so he started watching everyone else's reactions to the buffet. Pip made sure to stick with sugar-free syrup, silver dollars, and plenty of fruit. Damien's eyes widened briefly before taking_ the entire plate of bacon_ and using it as his own personal dish. Christophe poked Damien's shoulder with a fork and stole some pieces of bacon, passing two onto Gregory as well. Gregory called the cook and told him that it would be wise to make more, and Kenny was shocked that there would be _even more_ food coming. Kyle sat perfectly still, reflecting on the mass of food before deciding what he was going to be eating and neatly folding a ham slice onto his plate. Stan (after dumping a generous supply of sugar on his plate) tried to inform Kyle it wasn't kosher, but Kyle insisted that he didn't care, and, 'So what? Ham tastes fucking good!'. Token, pleased he could be a good host, looked entertained as well.

"Ow..." Craig rubbed his arm from where Tweek just hit him, accidentally of course.

"S- Sorry Craig!"

Craig honestly didn't care- it happened often enough, but something about Tweek was bothering him. He had that look in his eyes, like he was silently freaking out over something. Only Craig and sometimes Token could pride themselves in distinguishing Tweek's normal face from any other. "Is something wrong, Tweek?"

"Of course somethings bloody wrong, its Tweek." Gregory scoffed before turning back to his plate in dismissal. Craig flipped him off.

There was a rare chance Tweek even heard a word said, anyway. He looked as if he were concentrating on something. Pip's plate, evidently. Craig watched Pip eat something and Tweek winced- as if Pip were physically tearing into his skin. Which, Craig didn't count out of what might have been in Tweek's mind. That place was a fucking jungle. Craig wondered if even Tweek had a map, or a compass- North sure as hell didn't point North in there. "Tweek?"

Noticing he was being called, Tweek snapped his head back around, startled. It was a wonder that kid didn't get whiplash. "sorry." he turned back to his own plate, empty save for the syrup placed in some intricate pattern (or what looks like would have been an intricate pattern, if Tweek had more steady hands) around two strawberries. One was small and it's leaves stuck out in random places and the other was much bigger with a deep, almost too-red shade of red. It looked to Craig like one of the fruits was under-ripened and the other was going bad, but it didn't appear as if Tweek noticed. He just went back to sipping his coffee from his left hand and pulling the syrup along his plate with his fork.

"Tweek, eat something. You never eat anything." Craig whispered to his blonde friend. At this time, everyone was in their own little conversation, so Craig felt Tweek would be comfortable enough if he were to call out what he did every time they ate together. Every breakfast, every lunch at school- it was always the same. Tweek would need to be reminded to eat. It was sad, really, how horrible he was at sustaining himself. When asked, Tweek always insisted that, no, he wasn't anorexic, and yes, he did just get distracted some times. Craig even once managed to get the answer "I'm okay, really. I'm used to it", though he didn't think Tweek consciously told those words. Craig treated them like a secret- believing somehow it related to his parents. Craig hated Tweek's parents, and always did his best to keep Tweek out of that place. Not because his parents were sometimes abusive like Craig's own, but because they were neglectful and Craig knew Tweek needed watching over.

With a few seconds of silence and a nod, Tweek reached over to the fruit bowl and pulled out a perfect strawberry. Why didn't he just eat one of the ones on his plate, Craig wondered. But what was more amusing was Tweek's reaction.

When Tweek took that first bite of that strawberry and let the flavors drip across various taste buds, his pupils shrunk as they usually do when Tweek gets scared or excited. Or both. He held the fork in place in his mouth and was deathly still. "It... It's delicious..." he whispered to himself. And then, to Craig's astonishment, he added "I wonder what _we_ taste like..." ever so quietly.

"Tweek?" Craig pushed lightly on the coffee-addicts shoulder. "You aren't going cannibalistic on us, are you?" which successfully jump started his attention back to Craig.

"WHAT? NO! I- I meant the fruit...!" Craig chuckled. Tweek was just too innocent, it was funny at times. At a lot of times, in Craig's case.

Craig's head hurt.

...

It must have been the hangover.


	10. yeah

* * *

A/N: I hope you all picked up on that Craig is suppressing feelings (for Tweek) last chapter, and that Tweek thought of the strawberries as himself and Craig. And that Tweek freaked cuz Pip ate a happy-thing. (lol) Symbolism at it's best, just be sure you read the strawberries chapter. Also, _**RISASHOOTINGSTAR**_ (bold to get your attention and read the A/N), praise her, has convinced me unknowingly to put in more pairings. I originally only wanted Creek, you know, to make it more possible for real life, but she's pushed me off the edge of my denial. They all need to be in there. Or at least one... two more. ALSO, Gregory. Yes, yes, he's pissy and assholey, but there's a reason you find out later, I swear. I didn't fail at his personality. (I think...) **Beware half-emo-chapter.**

The time between a pre-party and the real one is always the worst. Girls try to fill the silence with assigning decorators and double-checking the list of who's coming. Guys will try to either scheme up something last minute or avoid each other and do something with a few close friends. Choosing the later option, Token gave everyone free reign of his house. You would expect bliss over this control, but it was a rather melancholy day to begin with- and was still drifting along that path.

Token and Clyde were playing the latest videogame. Token had yet to beat him. He was concentrating so hard, he didn't notice Clyde's look of distantness, or even slight sadness. If Kenny saw- he didn't say anything.

Kenny was silently observing Token and Clyde in the family room, before glancing lustily over at the kitchen. He kept up the good-boy role and didn't ask for any more, but deep in his heart knew he would take -_steal-_ something home. Guiltily, he thought of his family, but shook the feeling off. 'Tough.' and 'Deal with it.' were the family words he lived on.

Pip was asking the maid if she needed help with the dishes. She was silently willing the eager blonde away, and as well as Pip sensed the vibe, he made no move to leave. Because he would have to find someone else to be with, and that was usually a challenge.

Damien was sitting at the kitchen table, tracing patterns into the salt he'd just dumped, every so often looking up at the two figures by the sink.

Gregory's heart took the worst toll that morning. He was sitting on the bottom step of the basement stairs. He was crying. He didn't know anyone else knew he was.

Christophe followed Gregory after he left the table, but stopped to give him his space. He was only vaguely aware of the problem, and tried giving the blonde his time. He leaned against the door that led to the basement- shielding his best friend from all who dared try entering.

Kyle wandered for a bit and eventually came across a library. Stan- ever the faithful best friend, followed and saw where this was leading. Kyle found a book Stan would at the very least half-enjoy and he took it wordlessly. Sitting on an armchair, he pretended to read as he watched Kyle 'fix' Token's books, which taunted Kyle's OCD by being out of alphabetical order.

Craig led Tweek out to the back deck. It hadn't snowed in the last few days but the sky never stopped hinting it might come soon. The gray cluttered atmosphere eased Craig into a lull. He tried not to think. Not thinking was easy, and calming. 'Focus on the spots with no footprints' he told his mind, but his attention kept being redirected to the indents in the snow where Tweek fell off Token's swing three days ago.

Tweek had followed Craig outside. What else was there to do? Opposite of Craig, to calm himself down, Tweek liked to think. He would let his mind wander away from (or sometimes directly into) things that were troubling him, and if he did it correctly, he would end up eventually not thinking at all, like the calm of first waking up. Attempting to find his calm state of mind, he started with his choice in food that morning. He wasn't sure why exactly he tried a strawberry. He hadn't seen one since a few months ago at his Nani's, and was surprised at to just how strongly he still felt towards them. When Pip crushed one between his jaws, all Tweek could think about was how unethical it was, but then got into the mindset that the 'special happy-thing' (shortened in his own mind as 'it') was **inside** him. Which made him curious enough to consider trying one. When Craig made sure he was eating, (which was fucking embarrassing... Tweek should have at least been able to get his head together long enough for Craig not to have to make sure he _stayed alive_) Tweek told himself he was going to have one. And he did. Facing multiple fears every day made one a relatively brave person. If eating fruit qualified as brave... Tweek doubted it. Brave was the heros from stories. Brave would be being able to stand up to your parents and tell them they aren't doing it right. Brave was Craig, able to flip off or glare at anyone who so much thought of crossing his path. Tweek thought back. Sure, Craig flipped him off in dismissal or when he was joking, but always passively. The only time he could remember directly getting _glared_ at from Craig was the time when Craig had just gotten beaten by his father and he was ...crying. That was the first time Tweek saw him cry, and Craig didn't know what to do. He cursed. He _glared_. He called names. He threw things. He shut his eyes and just shook for a while. Tweek knew exactly what to do and when. He'd grown up with a mom like that- constantly angry, scary, but not entirely violent. Tweek knew to silently wait until the exact moment after Craig threw the fifth or so object and then touch his shoulder. This was a gamble, as it only sometimes works. If Craig hit Tweek for touching him, it would be all over; but Craig burst out with a 'don't fucking touch me.' and Tweek knew he could win this. 'Craig...' he had called softly. Craig stood shaking. You aren't supposed to touch him again, rather, for your mom at least, you're supposed to look really sad and her maternal instincts would kick in. He hadn't been sure what to do for Craig, so he took his hand and pulled them both down Indian-styled on the carpet, facing a mirror. Tweek weakly smiled at the mirror and touched Craig's reflection at his heart. Then Craig smiled weakly too. He hadn't glared at Tweek ever since. Now, if Tweek were to ever walk in on Craig crying, Craig would squeeze him tight and they would go to Tweek's for a sleepover away from his house for a while. Thinking back- Tweek shivered. He might have lost his best friend that day- and he had his mom to thank for teaching him what to do.

"Tweek?" Craig called lightly from his side.

Tweek's eyes widened. His back straitened. His neck turned quickly. He noticed Craig's concerned look. He calmed down. "y- Yeah?"

Craig didn't say anything for a little bit, thinking. With soft movements, he took off his coat. "You're shivering. And not just twitching." Tweek looked down. He was still only wearing the white long-sleeved shirt from Red's 'L cosplay' pictures and light jeans. When he was checking his clothes instead of taking the jacket, Craig just placed it over his shoulders. "Wait here."

And Tweek waited.

Craig came back soon after with instant coffee. Hazelnut. He handed it to Tweek and continued watching the unchanging scenery.

Tweek stared openly at Craig. Carefully, he took the coffee with both hands. He took a sip and looked out to where Craig was looking. It was the spot Tweek had fallen over a while back. Tweek smiled. He leaned into Craig's shoulder.

"...What?" But Craig made no move to stop him, so Tweek didn't.

"Nothing... its just... Today was such a bad day, you know? But it doesn't seem like that anymore." Tweek took another sip.

"..." Craig looked down at his best friend. " ...Yeah."

yeah.

Then the doorbell chimed. It was **way** too early to be a party guest, so it caught everyone off guard. Silence from the kitchen- A yelp from the back deck- a silence creeping up from the basement- and a brief silence from the family room. "Got it." yelled Token to no one in particular. Still however, no one went back to what they were doing. They wanted to hear who was at the door.

"Hee~ey!" Kenny smirked.

"Butters, you are waaay too fucking early." Called Clyde from the room over.

"But uhh... Bebe said something about nine-thirty, and fashionably late... So I came at ten-fifteen..."

"The party is eight _at night_, Buttercup." Kenny walked out from the family room into the waiting area before the kitchen.

"Well that's awfully late, don't you think fellas?"

"Not late enough for you, evidently." Damien voiced his input.

From the back deck, Craig stirred out of his dream-state of mind. "Come on Tweek, may as well go see what they're doing."

Tweek took another sip, dragging out the moment. "Yeah. Okay." They moved inside.


End file.
